Where Boys Become Men
by hickorysmokedhorsebuttholes
Summary: Maltair, They say that this is the place where friends are made, strengths are tested, and where boys become men. What they forgot to say is that this is only summer camp and that this is all bullshit. They are his parents and they are insane.


**A little hello,  
** from me to you. So, this is my first attempt at writing for this fandom which means I apologize profusely if I butcher anything. This is obviously an AU, _but_ there are some things I want to keep at least a little canon to the games and such. This is my second attempt at writing a summer camp au, as I love the concept, but got bored with my first try. I have high hopes for this lasting though!

Any criticism is appreciated, as I'm trying my best to reach a goal this a year and finish something I start that both pleases myself and others around me. So, let me know if you like something or if I totally screw something up.

For now, enjoy my feeble attempt at writing my own guilty pleasure; a maltair summercamp au.

__(As a p.s, I planned on this chapter being longer, but figured it was a good place to stop in order to see if this gets any reactions. Future chapters will definitely be more...meaty.)

* * *

_They say that this is the place where friends are made, strengths are tested, and where boys become men. What they forgot to say is that this is only summer camp and that this is all bullshit._

_**They** are his parents and **they** are insane._

The sun rises particularly high today, shining bright into the eyes of a certain Mr. Al-Sayf as he carts around the family. A relatively normal scenario; the father is driving and his little wife in front, the older brother sulking, and the younger spouting mantras of 'are we there yet?'.

The smallest youth in the vehicle, Kadar, pipes up again and the elder jabs him in the ribs. The attempt to silence his younger brother is lost in the yelp that follows the contact.

"Ma_lik!" _He cries, playing the 'big mean brother' card, and effectively gaining said mean brother a scolding. It doesn't last long seeing as the rare six hour drive they have decided to take ends abruptly with the turn the old minivan makes. A large wooden gate peeks out from pines just as large as the car pulls up a dirt trail and Malik is not impressed. The minivan isn't meant for off-road travel, but it creaks up hill anyway; a valiant effort. Kadar, at the tender age of thirteen, is not even trying to hide his excitement. Then again, _he's impressed by the fact he can piss his name into the snow_, the elder brother decides.

The family continues to pull forward, lurching in the van as it nears the looming gates. Malik rolls his eyes as his father mentions the size and strength of them. His mother catches him in the act and he is rewarded another lecture while Kadar quietly snickers from his seat on the left. By now, there is a line of traffic in front of them (another thing to add to the list of things that piss off Malik today) and it moves slowly, the heat offering up its fair share of annoyance.

The oldest brother passes the time by searching for at least twelve different ways to kill himself before they reach the camp gates. He finds five, at best and at least three of them include the seatbelt confining him to the car. Malik knows there is no chance in turning back when Kadar flails in his seat, clutching onto their father from behind.

"It looks so AWESOME." The smaller youth gawks at the entrance to the campsite and Malik swears he saw heaven flash though his brother's child-like eyes. The sixteen year old takes a second to size up the site once the van reels in and his mother eyes him through the mirror again. Ok, so maybe he is surprised to see that there are no flames licking at the grounds, and no satanic chants being said. The teen has yet to admit he is impressed, but settles for,

"It's alright, I guess." Malik's mother wears a satisfied smile on her tired face.

The cars are all directed through the main gates into the front grounds and are following the roundabout to unload their passengers. All of which are children between the ages of ten and eighteen. The Al-Sayf's minivan slows to a stop and Malik is last to exit the vehicle, suddenly self-conscious about his family's choice in ride. Minivans were for soccer moms only, and he highly doubts that his own flesh and blood even knows what a goal is. The two brothers step off to the side and Kadar bounces on his preteen feet, waiting for his bag. Their father lifts the baggage out from the van and passes it to each son, stopping to turn towards his eldest.

"Malik, promise me you'll at least _try_ to enjoy yourself." The older man wears a tired face and graying hair, but gives his son a reassuring look.

"Sure," Malik sighs, "But no guarantees." He solidifies his agreement with a warning, expecting his father to retaliate. The man simply stares at his sixteen year old and retreats back to the family van. By now, Malik's mother is finished smothering her youngest and glides over to her first born, embracing him and running a gentle hand through his messy hair.

"You are going to make so many friends here, my dear." She does not see her son roll his eyes and continues to talk, now in a hushed tone, "Make sure Kadar stays out of trouble, please?"

The eldest nods in her embrace and she releases him, moving for the passenger side of the minivan after a long parting glance. The last thing she says as the car pulls out of the camp grounds is something Malik does not hear, but he faintly reads a, 'We love you' on her thin lips.

Noon begins to approach and the sun just about reaches its highest point as it showers the entire camp with heat. All the campers are scattered, Malik notices now. No one makes a move for any cabins (in fact, he does not even spot any cabins in the immediate area) and it is only when a shrill voice slices through the stagnant air from a megaphone that everyone quiets. The sixteen year old glances around and makes mental notes in his head.

_Too many trees, _he notes first. _And four main buildings bordering this…this stage? Stage at the center of the circular shaped main grounds…Kadar! What are you-?_

"_Kadar!_" Malik seethes, unnecessarily angry at his little brother who is currently attempting to weave his way through the crowd. Before he gets too far, the elder has a firm grip on his brother's collar, effectively reeling him in.

"_Owowowow_, Malik. Let go!" Kadar squirms in his brother's grasp and whines in embarrassment. The teenager complies, only after the youngest bows his head in silent resignation.

The megaphone sounds again and the same voice spills out into the air. It belongs to an older man, well into his fifties or sixties Malik guesses. He sports a beard that grays to the very tip and absently strokes it while he pauses for silence. (The dark-haired boy believes it's all for dramatic affect.) This man introduces himself as the director of the camp and its programs, giving a heavy speech about the principles of _this_ and the ethics of _that_ and _blah blah blah_. He also makes it a point to state more than once that they are all Brothers here. Every one protects one another by the standards of the summer camp's program and by the end; Malik wishes he still had his seatbelt. There are still other official looking adults on the stage and each one seems to take a turn at speaking at the anxious group of campers about the camp rules and regulations, meal times, what they do, and other summer camp basics.

After a third of the counselors present themselves, the eldest brother begins to glance around out of boredom and starts counting trees. Malik gets to about twenty-seven before he notices a pair of eyes on him that aren't his brothers. There is a tall boy, who looks around Malik's age that is glaring daggers at him through golden-brown eyes. More often than not, the eldest would simply ignore the look, figuring it was something Kadar did to embarrass himself again, but there was something about this…weirdo's stare that threw him off. Giving an ice cold glower of his own, Malik stares back and violently mouths the word, "_What."_ In a matter of seconds, the offending boy shifts to an impassive face and simply shrugs; dissolving the entire situation. This makes sixteen year old Malik irritated, but he chooses to ignore it for now.

Later, one of the counselors is divvying up campers into groups based on age and gender, and the older brother instinctively grabs for Kadar. The youngest straightens himself up and claims he will be fine 'without a hawk watching him', but Malik can see the worry in his light blue eyes. He wonders for a moment if Kadar can see his own unease.

Normally, Malik would be pleased to get the kid out of his hair for more than a few seconds, but neither of them have been here before, and it's starting to look a little obvious when neither brother moves as directed. It is Malik's duty to protect his little brother because…well, it's the only one he has. And no matter what his teenage instincts say, he needs Kadar. If anything, the elder took pride in it; always being around for his little brother when his parents could not, always having someone looking up to him, always having something to fall back on when all else failed. Yes, Malik had to make sure that Kadar was not very far, so that he had someone to keep him grounded.

The camp instructors apparently did not seem to particularly care for Malik's internal explanation as they were repeating both their names now. Campers were beginning to stare and snicker before the elder brother welcomes reality with enough dignity to separate himself from Kadar. The youngest gives his brother a nervous look over his shoulder and the taller boy shrugs with an attempt at a reassuring smile. It's more to reassure himself than anything, but Malik grabs his bag just the same.

He watches Kadar as the younger joins a group of kids around the same age and frowns when he is no longer the epitome of his brother's attention. The children look friendly enough, inviting the dark-haired boy into their mix and already laughing with him. The older brother is forgotten and he sours at the thought of how quickly it occurred. Malik avoids the word selfish as he mulls over the situation, turning away with his luggage to find his group.

The tense camper cannot recall any outstanding names, but he figures it will be obvious to find a group of sixteen through eighteen year olds. Preoccupying himself by fiddling with a zipper on his duffle, Malik attempts to not appear lost for the sake of embarrassment, as he nonchalantly passes a group of kids. _Nope, definitely fourteen,_ he thinks to himself and continues walking. The stubborn boy only stops feigning nervousness as the others start moving off with their group leaders. Of course he does not remember his own leader's name. That would be _too_ easy.

Malik curses under his breath and readjusts his bag on his now sore shoulder. Did he pack rocks or something? _Three weeks worth of clothing should not weigh as much as this does_, he distracts himself. Malik was avoiding his next move, not too keen on its requirements; he was going to have to swallow his pride and ask for assistance, regardless of the reprimanding he may receive.

"Lost?" A quiet voice is at Malik's side as he thinks of his internal struggle and causes him to jump in a less than dignified way. He whips around at a pace that would give anyone else whiplash and is surprised to see the boy from earlier narrowing his stupid golden-brown eyes.

"I don't see your counselor nametag." Malik scoffs, retaining some dignity. The boy doesn't miss a beat and raises a brow.

"I don't need one to know you're in my group." He has a sort of light brown hair, cropped short, and speaks in a condescending tone that irritates the older Al-Sayf.

"I like taking the scenic route." He supplies bitterly. Malik would never admit he was lost, not in front of someone so…annoying. The taller boy smirks and turns on his feet, walking away from a pissed off older brother.

"I'll show you all the best places then." He does not see it, but Malik knows the other is wearing a shit-eating grin.


End file.
